Snowy Surprise
by LJ Summers
Summary: Out of the snow, Luna appears to Charlie with a surprising discovery. Written for a prompt by Pagan Ianthe, this is just a bit of a one-shot into the snow. All things Harry Potter are the property of J.K. Rowling - especially the imaginary creatures.


**_A/N:_** _So, I wanted to write a Valentine's drabble but couldn't think of a thing, even after some rough starts. Seeing Pagan Ianthe online, I begged her for a prompt and she gave me this one. Happy Upcoming Birthday, PI!_

* * *

 **Snowy Surprise**

 ** _12 December 2000_**

"Hush! Don't step so loudly!"

Charlie Weasley, just after dawn on his twenty-eighth birthday, froze with one leg bent so that his foot hovered over the ice-topped snow. Just over the other side of a smooth-sided snowdrift, a girl poked her purple-capped head up. Charlie had to smile at her. "All right?"

Her sudden grin was a surprise. "Right. See, I found the winter home of the Romanian Umbugular Slashkilter. They're torpid in this climate, you see, and I don't want you to wake them up." She cocked her head. "Wait. I know you."

"I'm—"

"Shh! They'll wake up," the girl with the big blue eyes said, her voice soft but carrying well over the snow. "I'll come to you. Just a moment, let me set up my camera. Do you know," she went on, disappearing behind the snow but fully audible by way of a strange sort of—mushroom?—she stuck into the top of the snowdrift, "my friends adjusted one of my cameras like a muggle camera so that I could take extended moving pictures of my favorite creatures. Like this one! There."

Charlie finally put his foot down, feeling the snow sift over the top of his boot and make dry, cold trails down toward his ankle. "Who are you?" he finally asked as she climbed over to his side of the drift. "I'm sure we've met." Charlie was not slow to introduce himself to a pretty girl, to be sure, and though he didn't think he'd, er, had a _history_ with the blond-braided young woman who managed to slide in near-silence through the snow, he wasn't positive.

She extended one gloved hand. It was laced in snow, but felt very firm in his. "I'm Luna Lovegood, owner of _The Quibbler._ You're a Weasley, and," she went on as he laughed softly, "You're Charlie. The dragontamer."

"Why, we're neighbors, aren't we? Or, rather, our families are."

Her smile faded and she folded her lips into her mouth for a moment. " _Were_ , rather. But it's good to see you, out here in the middle of nothing. Were you looking for the Umbugular Slashkilters, too?"

Charlie wracked his brain for anything he knew about Luna Lovegood. Ginny might have mentioned her once or twice, and her father had published _The Quibbler_ , that rather outrageous magazine that nevertheless had put out some interesting things about Harry Potter—now his brother-in-law, that Ginny had liked. "No, I haven't seen one before," he said slowly in answer to Luna Lovegood's question. "But I'd like to see yours, if I may?"

She eyed him up and down, a most thorough perusal, and Charlie felt himself grow a bit warm underneath the layers of clothes he wore against the weather. He returned the favor, seeing the hints of definite female curvature underneath her blue cloak and bronze scarf, her wool trousers, and shiny black boots. "They're not mine," she said at length. "They're their own. But if you're quiet, you can see them sleeping."

Charlie put aside his current quest for the elusive Balaur Zăpadă—snow dragon. It was a small species he'd only heard rumors of in Romania, but it was said to have sharp tail that made a man wish for flame. "I can be quiet. As you know," he murmured, approaching her carefully as he might a nesting mum, "I work with dragons and they're a prickly lot."

Her laugh was light and seemed to float on the white gusts of her breath. "They are that. Shh, now. Take that ridge carefully. Here," she whispered, holding out her hand to him.

He took it without a second thought, blinking as the sun bounced blindingly up the rising ground to hit him in the eyes. "Miss Lovegood," he began, "how'd you know to come here to find, er, them?"

"Been tracking them. Charms, you know? I finally got Hermione to listen to me, and—"

Muffling a chuckle, Charlie nodded. "Granger? Hermione Granger?" He remembered the young woman with the sharp mind and virtual catalog of spells at her disposal. One of Harry Potter's best mates and the brains of The Golden Trio.

"She's stubborn, you know, but once she's on your side, she's there forever," Luna Lovegood murmured. "Right then, here we are. Hold still," she cautioned, pointing with her free hand at a ridge in the bright landscape.

They were still holding hands, to Charlie's amused pleasure. He watched her eager posture as she bent over just a bit to peer at the mysterious creatures. One long, blond braid slipped over her shoulder to hang like a pale rope, darker than snow, but lighter than the color he normally considered "blond". There was a subtle grace to her movements, even in the unwieldy snow and in her boots, that made him think of creatures born and bred in the wild.

When she turned a bit to smile up at him, he felt his heart thump far too hard in his chest, which startled him. Something of that might have shown in his face because Luna Lovegood's cheeks turned a deep, rosy color that was more than the December chill. "Charlie?"

"Still my name," he managed to say, trying for casual.

She rolled her eyes. "Of course it is, you're not like the—Oh! Look!"

With an excited squeak, all cautions about quiet apparently forgotten, Luna hopped a bit, making snow fountain all around her legs. "They woke up!" Tugging on his hand, she called, "Come on! Get my camera! Char—Whoops!"

Laughing, swearing under her breath, the blond-braided beauty fell over on her back, bringing him with her until they both landed, breathless, cracking the ice layer and falling into the powdered snow underneath. Soft, frozen flakes patterned her purple cap and landed on her long lashes, to melt straightaway. He braced himself atop her and cast an immediate warming charm over them both so that the snow seemed to move away from them.

"Sorry," he said, watching her eyes go from startled to curious to very, very _interested_. "You caught me by surprise."

"Me, too." She brushed his fringe out of his eyes and smiled. "Too bad it's not February," she murmured, moving up just a little until her chest met his.

He blew out a hot breath, but didn't move from her. "Why is that?"

"You'd be my surprise birthday present, of course."

At that, he had to laugh, catching her up and rolling them both over. "It's my birthday, as it happens, so we'll make it for both of us, yeah?"

"Oh, yeah," she whispered, relaxing so that he felt her entire body ease over him, every precious curve over the planes of his own. "Happy birthday, Charlie Weasley."

She kissed him then, and it was a moment bred of snow and fire, ice and surprising passion. Hot lips, cold air, and the occasional laugh that rumbled through his chest or hers. At length, he tucked her against himself and rolled once more so that they were kneeling on the earth revealed by the melted snow. "So, after we get your camera," he said slowly, brushing his hand down her back just because he could, "can we—"

"Oh! Look!" she cried, lunging to her feet. "Look, Charlie!"

There before them, silvery gray with odd blue lines that contrasted wonderfully with the snow, were creatures about a meter long that Charlie had never seen before. "Are they the Romanian, er—"

"Romanian Umbugular Slashkilters! Yes! Merlin, but they're beautiful. Watch, they're going to fly!" She stood, a figure of natural beauty in the snow, her body poised and still as she concentrated on the diminishing view of the creatures she was so interested in.

He moved behind her, wrapping both arms around her waist, making sure that she was really real. "That was amazing," he said truthfully. "I want to hear the whole story of how you found them."

Turning in his arms, she kissed him with all the ease of lovers long used to one another. Her familiarity warmed him. "And I want to hear about the dragons! So, after we get my camera . . ."

* * *

In after years, when _The Quibbler_ was being printed in Romania and had a regular Dragon Information feature as well as a host of new imagery regarding Luna's discoveries, Charlie would smile over his Firewhisky and watch his wife as she dictated to her self-writing quills. "Thank you," he told her more than once.

"For what?"

"For my birthday surprise that first year."

She'd smile at him and cross the room to cup his cheek in her hand, knowing what he was referring to, as she always did. "It was a surprise for me as well."

"Imagine that."

"Yeah."

Her smile rivaled the sun.


End file.
